Sometimes, the English language just isn’t expansive enough…

Over the holiday weekend I’ve been trying to have a go at a bit of Prescott bashing. It really is a superb subject to wax lyrical about – and the main man himself is a solid gold prattinski if ever I saw one. So constructing a post about a vain, stupid, power mad nutter and his wandering willy should have been a five minute cinch…… Or so I thought. I mean, how hard can it be to describe the sexual athlete that is John ‘groper’ Prescott?....

Well quite hard actually. Every day brought more seediness, more depths of depravity – even the Bishop of Bath and Wells and his red hot poker would have been disgusted…..

Oral sex in the ODPM’s office, gropes in lifts, upskirt thrills, touchy feely Johnny doing what comes naturally to him. With pneumatic regularity, Prescott’s white flabby Gluttonous Maximus has left its pimply sweaty imprint on various bits of departmental office furniture. Thwack, thwack, thwacking on the walnut veneer and intricate leather chase work, french polished surfaces sprayed with various bodily fluids, steamy windows with letters drawn upon ‘J loves himself’ – true. Half mast pinstripe trousers, languishing around swollen sweating ankles and straining sinews that have not seen such stress since Prezza called the school bully a right big nancy boy. Great glottal Hullish expletives resound from the plasterwork as the white elephant wobbles to climax in his Whitehall office…

Nah, that’s rubbish, it reads like something Barbara Cartland on a bad day might have written….

Perhaps only Prezza himself can do justice to his predicament. Yesterday, he was reported to be in a depressed state of mind. He’s worried that all the negative publicity over this past week has made him into a national laughing stock……